


History 320

by BreeTaylor



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, Prompt Fill, Teacher-Student Relationship, aka shit happens, khadgar is the overeager student who finds said grump incredibly attractive, lothar is a slightly grumpy history professor, they get off on entirely the wrong foot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreeTaylor/pseuds/BreeTaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: I was late to class and crashed into you on my way there and instead of helping you out I swore in your face and now the prof is late and <i>oh god it’s you</i>.</p>
<p>Khadgar had never been late to class in nearly 5 years of college, he sure as hell wasn't going to be late today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History 320

**Author's Note:**

> Saw this prompt on tumblr, couldn't resist! Hopefully this makes up for the fact that I sadly won't be posting a chapter of From Darkness Comes Light today because of work. ):
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Khadgar prided himself on his punctuality. He was entering his fifth, and hopefully last, year of college and he had yet to be late for a class. He was the guy that usually showed up ten minutes early and sat outside re-reading the textbook. He just took his studies seriously, okay? With the amount he was paying to go to college, he couldn’t _afford_ to be late.

He’d made it four and a half years without being late for a class, and then out of nowhere his alarm decided it was just going to stop working, and without an alarm Khadgar just didn’t wake up. Whatever “body clock” people claimed to have? Yeah, he didn’t have one. But thank _god_ for roommates. Specifically Garona who, by some miracle, knew he had class at 10 am every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He had no idea how she knew considering it was the first day of the semester and even he had to write his schedule down to remember, but he could’ve kissed her. If, y’know, he wasn’t gay.

Unfortunately, she didn’t notice he was still there until 9:45, and their apartment was nearly fifteen minutes away from campus. If he ran. Generally, he liked to look good on the first day of class. College was what many considered your first ‘professional job’ (that you had to pay for, he wished he could get paid to study all day), after all. But all Khadgar had time to do was throw on his nearest pair of jeans and a sweater. He was sure his hair was a terrible mess, and he had _really_ wanted to shave today but there was no time.

In a record breaking 5 minutes, he was out the door and sprinting as fast as he could across campus. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that the History department was literally the farthest building from their apartment. He was so close—he could _see_ the building. His lungs were burning as he ran because, honestly, he was a bookworm. He didn’t exactly _exercise._

Khadgar pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, and almost as soon as he glanced down he ran directly into someone. Which was weird, because he was pretty sure there wasn’t anyone there when he looked down. With the speed he was going, Khadgar ended up knocking them both to the ground. He ended up, rather unfortunately, lying on top of the guy. He felt himself flush at that realization because the man lying under him wasn’t exactly unattractive. He had a decently full beard and longer hair, half of which was pulled back into a bun that Khadgar would normally hate but _damn_ if it didn’t work for this guy.

The sound of the clock tower chiming pulled Khadgar out of his flushed panic because _holy fuck_ he was going to be late. He stood quickly, brushing his pants off and grabbing his belongings from the ground. “You really should watch where you’re fucking going,” he said, angrier at himself than the man but needing to take it out on _someone_. “I mean, it’s not like I’m easy to miss, Jesus.”

And with that incredibly articulate statement, he continued running towards his class. Khadgar was pretty sure he could hear the man scolding him, pointing out that _he_ was the one looking down at his phone, but he really didn’t have time to argue. Especially because the man was right.

Khadgar _finally_ got to class at 10:05. Five minutes late. He was ashamed of himself, but the professor wasn’t there yet so he counted that as a win. He got a lot of weird looks as he fell heavily into a seat in the front row, heaving for breath, face flushed, and covered in sweat. But he made it before the professor, so _fuck_ their judgement. He pulled out his planner and notebook, as he did every first class, and waited for their professor to show up.

He glanced at the clock again, 10:08. Khadgar really hoped their prof wasn’t going to be the type that was late to every class because his tuition paid for a full 110 minutes, and it really pissed him off when 10 of those minutes ended up paying for the professor to go get a coffee before class. Honestly, so unprofessional.

However, when the professor finally _did_ walk into the room at 10:11, Khadgar knew exactly why he was late. And from the look on the guy’s face, he recognized him too. He glared at Khadgar as he walked across the room to the desk next to the window. He continued to glare as he slammed his satchel down on said desk, and pulled out a whiteboard marker. Khadgar swallowed nervously as he walked over to stand directly in front of him.

“Sorry for my tardiness, class,” he said, and _wow_. Wow his voice was really nice. “Some _asshole_ wasn’t paying attention as he ran like a maniac across campus and slammed into me.”

Khadgar smiled weakly, mouthing a _sorry_ that only made the guy’s frown more. He turned on his heal and scrawled his name, office information, and the class name on the board. “I’m Professor Anduin Lothar, you can all address me as Lothar,” he crossed his arms. “I mean it. I will not answer to Professor, and I will kick you out if you try to call me Anduin. Everyone got it?”

There was a hum of acknowledgement from the class and for the first time since arriving, Lothar smiled. Khadgar felt himself melt. “Good. So this is History 320, War in the Middle Ages. Everyone in the right place?”

Khadgar was really, really glad that he was.

* * *

 

Lothar was surprised to find the asshole who knocked him over in his class. Surprised and rather annoyed. He was more surprised, however, when said kid actually had the balls to approach him after the class was over. He leaned against the desk, crossed his arms across his chest, and rose an eyebrow, waiting for the kid to speak.

“So,” he said, looking rightfully nervous, “I kind of owe you an apology.”

“You don’t say.”

“I may’ve overreacted a bit this morning when we ran into each other.”

“You mean when you ran into me,” Lothar provided, “because I wasn’t the one not paying attention to the people in front of me.”

The kid blushed, and it was kind of amusing. “Okay, yes. So it was completely my fault. _But_ in my defense, I was trying not to be late to _your_ class.”

“I would’ve preferred you be late.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have?” Khadgar said, though it came out more like a question. “I’ve actually never been late to a class, so…”

“You mean until today.”

“What?”

“You were late today—to this class. So you had never been late to a class, until today.”

Khadgar’s mouth opened in an ‘oh’ shape, but he shook his head quickly. “Doesn’t count, I got here before the professor.”

“I count it,” Lothar said, more out of spite than anything. “In fact, I’m going to say that’s your one tardy for the semester, Mr. Punctual.”

“Khadgar,” the kid said. “My name is Khadgar.”

“Huh, bizarre,” Lothar said, mostly to hide the fact that the uniqueness of the name, much like the person, intrigued him. “Well, I’ll see you on Friday Khadgar. Don’t be late.”

The kid actually looked offended at the statement.

* * *

 

“Garona!” Khadgar yelled as he walked into their shared apartment. He didn’t even know if she was home, but holy fuck he needed to tell _someone_ about whatever the hell had happened this morning. Thankfully, she padded out of the kitchen with a cup of tea and a concerned expression.

“Did you make it to class on time?”

“Technically,” Khadgar said, “except not really. I was five minutes late, but I beat the professor, but the professor gave me a late anyway.”

“What, why?”

“I, uh, I might’ve run into him on the way to class?” Khadgar asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like… physically slammed into him? We both ended up on the ground.”

“Jesus, Khadgar…”

“And I might’ve swore at him and not helped him up.”

“God damnit, kid. What the hell?”

Khadgar groaned and fell onto their couch, “I didn’t want to be late. And, um. I might’ve been a bit flustered because something out there hates me and he’s really fucking pretty.”

“Oh, Khadgar,” Garona sighed, tapping his legs. He lifted them long enough to allow her to sit and let them fall back onto her lap. “You’re going to have a fun semester, kid.”

“Why did he have to be pretty?” Khadgar groaned into the couch cushions, pretty sure she couldn’t even hear him. “Why can’t I meet pretty people that _aren’t_ my professor and _don’t_ end up hating me?”

“That would be too easy,” Garona chuckled, patting his calves apologetically. “I have something to make you feel better, though.”

“The newest book in the Guardian series?”

She sighed, as she usually did when he talked about his books. “No, Khadgar. I got us invited to a party.”

“No thank you.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’ll be fun, take your mind off your professor.”

“I don’t _want_ to go to a college party. They’re boring.”

“There’s going to be older guys,” she sing-songed. “Guys with actual careers and accomplishments that don’t involve beer or pong.”

Khadgar heaved a sigh, “Fine.” He’d go to the party, to make her happy. But he wasn’t going to promise to enjoy it.

* * *

 

The party was just as loud as any other frat party Garona had dragged him to. It was held in some house that belonged to God knows who, and almost before they even got inside Khadgar wanted nothing more than to leave. Garona insisted on introducing him to someone, though. Some guy she met in her Sociology of War class that was apparently ‘really interesting.’ As he was pulled through the house he managed to get his hands on three cups of some kind of alcohol, all of which he downed in one go. If he was getting through this night, he sure as hell wasn’t doing it sober.

He picked up his fourth cup as they reached the guy Garona had been talking about. He smiled bright when he spotted them, shouting a greeting over the loud music. “Garona, hey!”

“How’s it going?” She yelled back. “I want you to meet my friend, Khadgar. Khadgar, this is Llane!”

“Hi.”

“He doesn’t like parties,” she explained, and Llane chuckled.

“I should introduce you to my friend, he’s the same!” Khadgar really didn’t want to meet his friend, but Garona had a really firm grip on his arm. So they were off again, and Khadgar managed to make it up to his eighth cup before Llane spotted the guy. He was sitting in the corner, Khadgar’s usual spot, and it wasn’t until they had actually reached him that Khadgar realized why he looked so familiar.

“You!” Lothar shouted. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Anduin, what the hell?” Llane asked.

“That’s the prick that ran into me on my way to my first class!” Lothar growled. “Asshole made me late.”

“Your first class?” Khadgar giggled. He couldn’t help it; he was pretty sure he reached drunk a cup or two ago. “That’s _adorable_.”

The statement just made Lothar angrier. Thankfully, or not so thankfully Khadgar couldn’t decide—the guy _was_ attractive, Llane stepped in. “Woah, woah, woah. Let’s not overreact, okay? How about Garona and I go get some drinks while you guys talk out your differences.”

Garona looked concerned, but when she opened her mouth to speak Llane dragged her away. Leaving Khadgar standing on his own in front of Lothar. He was okay for about .5 seconds before the room started to sway. He heard Lothar swear, and then there were hands on his waist and _oooh_ , those were warm and quite nice. He was guided onto the couch, Lothar falling heavily onto the seat next to him. Khadgar smiled, and let himself fall against the man. He couldn’t help it; he was _really_ warm.

“What are you doing.” Lothar deadpanned.

“Shh, you’re comfortable,” Khadgar answered. “And I might be a little not sober.”

“You don’t say.”

“I don’t like parties,” he said of way of explanation. Lothar hummed, seeming to understand. “I am sorry about running into you today, just so you know.”

“Yeah, well. It happens, I guess.”

“I would normally have helped you up,” Khadgar said.

“Right, but you were going to be late.”

He shook his head against Lothar’s shoulder, “You’re just really, _really_ attractive, and I was on top of you and that was super embarrassing so I kind of panicked.”

He felt rather than heard Lothar chuckle above him. He was glad the anger had calmed down a little. “I guess I forgive you, kid.”

“Not a kid.”

“Oh, c’mon. What are you, 20?”

“Excuse you, I am 24,” Khadgar huffed. “What are you, 40?”

“How are you.”

“Yeah, not so nice is it, old man?”

“You’re really testing your luck, kid,” Lothar said, his voice gravelly and deep. The sound was making Khadgar’s body react in ways that probably weren’t appropriate considering 1. this was his professor, and 2. Lothar didn’t even _like_ him.

“Then stop calling me kid, _old man,”_ he teased. Lothar’s arm snaked around his waist, and Khadgar froze. He was about to question what was going on when Lothar started—started _tickling_ him. “Lothar,” he heaved between laughing, “Lothar stop I’m going to hurl.”

The hands stopped immediately, and Khadgar fell back against him. Except he miscalculated the distance in his intoxicated state and instead of his head ending up on Lothar’s shoulder, it ended up in his lap. Part of him knew he should move, but the less reasonable and drunk part was far too comfortable. Instead, he pulled his knees to his chest and made himself more comfortable. “Khadgar,” Lothar said. “You probably shouldn’t…”

Khadgar hushed him, “I’m comfortable.”

Lothar didn’t say anything else, and Khadgar felt himself dozing off. He never did last long once he was drunk—sleep was definitely his _favorite_ thing in the world.

* * *

 

When Khadgar finally blinked his eyes open the following morning he was aware of a few things immediately. 1. He was not in his room, 2. The only thing he was wearing was boxers, and 3. There was someone snoring next to him. He took a deep breath and allowed himself to look to his left. When his eyes landed on none other than fucking Anduin Lothar, he felt himself stop breathing.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hissed under his breath. “ _Shit, fuck, shit.”_

Had he slept with his professor? Could he get kicked out for sleeping with his professor? They were both legal and, presumably, consenting adults. Morally, it was wrong. But legally they had to be okay. Right? He tried to calm himself down, glancing another look at Lothar. He looked so calm, so peaceful as he slept. His long hair fell messily around his face, and his lips were parted just slightly.

Taking a final, deep breath, Khadgar decided it’d probably be best to wake him up and find out what the _fuck_ happened. So he poked Lothar’s cheek. The man’s eyebrows furrowed together, and he blinked one eye open, “What the fuck.”

“Um,” Khadgar said, his voice unsurprisingly hoarse, “that was my question exactly, actually.”

“What time is it, even?”

Khadgar glanced at the clock on the bedside table next to them, “6:30?”

“Oh my god,” Lothar groaned, “why are you up, you _asshole_.”

“Lothar,” Khadgar said, finding himself actually more than a little scared despite how desperately he was trying to stay calm. It must’ve come across in his voice, because both of the man’s eyes opened to stare into his own. “Did we… I mean, we didn’t…”

“No, we didn’t,” Lothar promised, and Khadgar let out a sigh of relief. “Trust me kid, you would’ve remembered if we did. Though it’s insulting that you seem to think I’m that bad in bed.”

Khadgar blushed. “That’s not what I was insinuating. I was just… I was really drunk.”

“I know. Garona didn’t want to drag your ass all the way back to your apartment, so I let you stay here.”

“I’m sorry.” Khadgar said at the same time Lothar said, “I wouldn’t dare make a move on someone who was drunk.”

“Wait,” he said, the statement beginning to register in his hungover mind, “but if I _hadn’t_ been drunk.” Lothar just shrugged. “Oh. But, uh. You’re my professor.”

“You say that like this doesn’t happen surprisingly often,” Lothar stated, stretching his arms high above his head and revealing a bare and muscular chest that made Khadgar’s heartbeat quicken. “At least this wouldn’t be about you getting an easy A. Unless… you’re not that stupid are you?”

“I’m offended you’d even suggest that.”

Lothar chuckled, “As I thought.”

“So are you suggesting that we do this again sometime? Like, when I’m not drunk?”

“Why not,” Lothar smiled. “You seem fun.”

Khadgar couldn’t help but laugh, “Can I get that on record? Garona would never believe anyone ever used ‘fun’ and ‘me’ in the same sentence.”

“Oh?”

“I like my books. She just doesn’t understand.”

Again, Lothar laughed. One of his arms snaked its way around Khadgar’s shoulder, pulling him against his chest, “Go back to sleep, bookworm. We’ll talk about this more when it’s not so fucking early.”

Khadgar couldn’t help but smile, nuzzling himself against Lothar. He still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not, but damn if he wasn’t okay with it.


End file.
